Twisted Steel: An MC Romance Anthology

by Knox, Elizabeth

  Instead of heading for Deacon, he made a beeline for her. “Miss James,” he said brightly. “It’s good to see you well. Your parents send their best wishes and their regards to those who came to your aid.”

  “Thank you . . .” Adrienne looked at his name tag to see who she was talking to and froze when she read Mitch’s name. Dropping her gaze so he wouldn’t see her panic, she noticed he was wearing the wrong kind of shoes as well. The only way he could have gotten Mitch’s ID was if the Ranger was dead or captured.

  Under no circumstances could she leave with this man. Whatever they planned, it wasn’t to see her safely home. More than likely, they’d come to kidnap her and hold her for ransom.

  Fifteen hundred dollars was nothing to what they would likely demand.

  Motherfucker.

  She forced herself to breathe deeply and think about what the hell she could do. There was a gun in her purse but she’d be putting everyone else at risk if she tried to use it. She had to find a way to warn them.

  The fake Mitch coughed. “I need to pay your bill so we can get on our way. Who—”

  “I’ll do it,” she insisted, plucking the bag from his hand before he could stop her. Unzipping it, she opened the top enough to peek inside and verify that the money was there. “I need to thank them for their hospitality. Give me a minute, please?”

  He didn’t like it but he didn’t argue, either. Carrying her purse in front of her, she managed to free her gun, turn off the safety, and tuck it into the bank bag to give to Deacon. She’d have gladly given it to Book, but he had his hands full with Loki. Once the men knew what was happening and the first round was racked, she’d need to duck out of the way for Deacon to have a clear shot at pseudo-Mitch.

  The trouble was, the bastard followed her, staying close enough that he could hear anything she said.

  Son of a bitch.

  Think. Think.

  Adrienne stopped in front of Deacon. Book pulled Loki back when he tried to nudge her for pets. “Thank you,” she told him, “for letting me stay these past few days. I’ll make certain my father knows just how much you’ve done for me.”

  In the next breath, she switched to Comanche, knowing Deacon would understand and hoping like hell that fake Mitch wouldn’t. “I need you to listen and act normally. The man behind me isn’t a Ranger. My gun is in the bag with the safety off and a clip of eight. When you load the first round, I’m going to pet Loki and bend down to duck out of your way. Do you think you can get off a clear shot?”

  Deacon nodded. “I can,” he said lightly. Taking the bag she handed him, he made a show of looking inside. His reassurance in Comanche and Loki’s whines covered the sound when he racked the first round. His actions were blocked from the fake Ranger by her body standing between them. With her weapon hot, Deacon aimed it at the man behind her, ready to fire as soon as she moved out of the way.

  “And thank you, Book,” she said in English. “And Loki. Such a good dog. Yes, you want petted! I see that tail wagging! Look at you!” Hoping the fake Ranger would keep his eyes on her, she ducked down. A shot rang out over her head. Gunfire erupted from all sides of the compound. Snarling dogs lunged off their leashes, eager to protect.

  “Get inside!” Book ordered. Letting Loki off his leash, Book pulled a pistol from the back of his waist, aiming at another fake Ranger who grabbed hold of her arm before she’d gone ten steps.

  Her martial arts training kicked in. She laid him out on the ground with a roundhouse kick to the head, snatched his gun, and raced for the garage. The dogs attacked, throwing off aims while the bikers picked off the evil strangers in their midst.

  The shootout was over in minutes, but it seemed an eternity to her. In the end, every fake Ranger was dead. Not one of the bikers had been killed.

  Book found her by her van and took her by the shoulders, his sapphire eyes assessing. “Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?”

  She figured she was in shock. Her brain didn’t seem to want to function. The meeting had started with a third of the members present. Now the whole club seemed gathered in the yard. “I’m fine,” she managed. “That was . . .”

  “Awesome,” he breathed. “Fucking awesome. I’m so proud of you, Texas. You kept your head straight and yourself together. You found a way to tell Deacon and arm him, then you went all River Tam on the one who managed to reach you. He didn’t stay down, but he’s no threat to you anymore.”

  “We should have tried to take some alive,” she told him. “Find out what happened. Who sent them. What they planned to do with me.”

  Book brushed her cheek with his thumb and pressed a kiss on her forehead. “We already know,” he said. “Mitchell warned me. When I went to church this morning, I was far enough away from you that I could hear him.”

  “Is he—”

  “Dead? Yes. I’m sorry, sweetheart. The convoy was ambushed in Oklahoma. No one survived, but Mitchell and the others were pledged to see you safely home. To have closure, they needed to know you were protected— and they wanted justice for their murders. You didn’t see it, but the lodge roof was covered with Lost Creek snipers. We closed the gate behind them. They were never going to get away or have the chance to take you. What happened here was biblical justice, an eye for an eye. Although the man behind it is still out there somewhere. The Gray Ghost wanted to hold you for ransom. He won’t be happy that you slipped through his fingers.”

  Adrienne noticed that Deacon had joined them, the green bag in one hand and her pistol in the other. Flipping the safety on, he held the gun by the barrel and handed it back to her. “Impressive,” he hummed. “Damn impressive.”

  She thought he was complimenting her on her choice of a weapon until he added deadpan, “Your Comanche is flawless.”

  The President had surprising wit and piss poor timing. She wanted to punch him for choosing to reveal his playful side just now. She’d narrowly escaped being kidnapped. A man she’d once loved and his comrades lay dead.

  But he had his money. Lost Creek MC had made out like bandoleros today.

  The bastard crooked a grin before growing serious again. “It looks like you’ll be staying in Kansas— at least until a convoy makes it through for you. There’s a club of women riders a few miles down the road. The Shield Maidens MC would be happy to put you up, but you’re welcome to stay here. I’m sure Book won’t mind sharing space, and there’s always a place in the media room for another gamer or performer. I’ve invited the Shield Maidens to visit tonight. You can meet them . . . get a feel for their club before making a decision.”

  She had wondered where the women were.

  A jealous whisper made her suspect she’d find out tonight.

  8

  Deacon called her father while his men cleaned up outside, loading the bodies onto a flatbed trailer to haul away for disposal or burial, she supposed. Speaking President to President, he let him know what had happened and assured her parents that their daughter was safe.

  Adrienne kept her following conversation brief, still struggling with guilt over Mitch’s death. He’d been killed in the line of duty but really, he and the others had died because of her. If she hadn’t taken the water, he would have stayed safe in Texas. Instead, he and the others had been slaughtered in Oklahoma by the Gray Ghost and his wraiths.

  Book distracted her for a bit, helping her haul things back to his quarters. A few days’ worth of clothes, toiletries, and her toy box came in this time around. Now that she was here and sharing the shaman’s bed, she planned to make the most of whatever time they had together.

  At lunch, Deacon announced to the club that they would celebrate their victory with a cookout and a dance that evening. The men spent the afternoon outdoors, preparing to party in style.

  Adrienne stayed inside with Loki to keep him out of the way. At one point, Book returned long enough to gather a smudge dish, tobacco, sage, an eagle-feather fan, a rattle, and a drum for a ceremony he needed to do somewhere. When he came to re
turn his tools and fetch her for supper, more than a dozen strange bikes were parked in a neat row, their front wheels aligned with the edge of the gravel drive.

  Book put his hand on the small of her back and guided her behind the lodge where tables were set up for feasting. In the space beyond, drums and chairs had been set inside a circle of benches, ready for the dance that would follow.

  Women dressed in biker leathers with Shield Maidens MC logos on the backs were intermingled with the men, talking, laughing, joking, flirting. An attractive redhead gave Adrienne the evil eye when she saw Book’s fingers spanning the curve of her spine. An older blonde talking to Deacon excused herself and intercepted them before they could find a seat.

  “Evenin’, Book. Why don’t you introduce me to your friend?”

  Book kept his hand where it was and acknowledged the woman’s request with a dip of his head. “Adrienne, this is Queen Bee. Bee for short. Bee is President of our sister chapter, the Shield Maidens MC.”

  Adrienne had checked out the newcomers as they walked in. If the Shield Maidens MC was a sister chapter, there was a whole lot of incest going on.

  “Bee, this is Adrienne James. She’s a jewelry designer. The pieces I’ve seen are tribal-inspired and steampunk-influenced. Cool stuff.”

  Adrienne felt a swell of pride at Book’s introduction. She was always the First Daughter of Texas, or child of The Prophets, an extension of her parents instead of a person in her own right. She appreciated his consideration and was flattered by his critique of her jewelry.

  Too many men failed to notice details. Book seemed to be constantly seeking them out. A true Dominant, nothing was beneath his notice, from what she ate to how she dressed to what made her writhe beneath him.

  “Thank you,” she told him, beaming her pleasure.

  Bee wasn’t going to let her get off that easy. “Deacon tells me you’re from Texas.”

  “I am. I hope to get back someday.” She left it at that. She didn’t know if Bee had been told how she’d landed here or if she knew about today’s shootout with the bandits in disguise. Then again, a little information sharing might make the night go more smoothly. If Bee knew she was staying with Book, maybe the Shield Maidens’ President could get the redhead shooting daggers at her to back off.

  If not, the bitch was headed for an attitude adjustment.

  “I’m playing nice with Book where he’s putting me up,” Adrienne purred, “but the gloves come off in the game room. Everyone knows . . . you don’t mess with Texas.”

  She leveled a meaningful look at the redhead and swung her gaze back to Bee. “It was nice to meet you, ma’am. Enjoy your evening. If you’ll excuse us?”

  Thankfully, Book took the hint and steered her to the edge of the crowd, finding them a seat at a table farthest from the buffet line and closest to the drumming circle. Settling into the chair he pulled out for her, she looked past Bee and the redhead locked in conversation and canvassed the rest of the crowd.

  “Who’s the brunette talking to Deacon?” she asked.

  “That’s Duchess, the Shield Maidens’ VP.”

  “And the Goth girl talking to Hawkeye?”

  “That’s Storm.”

  She kept on going, making a mental list of the Shield Maidens, adding Bee, Duchess, Maya, Ladybird, Luna, Minx, Zoe, Raine, Melody, Lark, Chica, Belle, and Skye. Last but far from least . . .

  “And the redhead draining her second beer?”

  “Third.” Book sighed heavily. “That’s Bloody Mary, the club Enforcer.”

  “Well, fuck.” The most dangerous woman in the club and she thought Book should be with her.

  Adrienne tore her gaze away to find Book’s troubled sapphire eyes. “Are you two a thing?” she asked point-blank. “If she stays, do I need to watch my back?”

  “Maybe? Possibly?” Book heaved a frustrated sigh. “She doesn’t have a claim on me.”

  She swept a hand across the crowd. “Does anyone here have a claim or are you all bikers with benefits?”

  The color that crept into his cheeks was telling enough. His sudden silence confirmed her guess.

  “Look, Book, I’m not condemning hookups. We’re all adults. We all have needs. I’m just trying to understand the dynamics here.”

  That and protect herself from a feral ginger known as Bloody Mary.

  The Enforcer ignored her President and started her fourth beer. “She’s giving me the evil eye again. Promise me that I’m not going to wake up in the morning and find my tires slashed or my favorite jewelry in pieces.”

  Book eyed the female Enforcer with a growing alarm.

  Motherfuck. Just because Aunt Grace wasn’t picking up any immediate danger for her didn’t mean that Book was safe.

  “I’ll protect you,” she promised him, not about to let Scary Mary anywhere near him. “One wrong move and I swear I’ll go River Tam on her. If she’s smart, she’ll look elsewhere. There are plenty of other able bodies around. If she can’t find someone here to scratch her itch, she can go the fuck home and take care of things herself.”

  “Damn it. I hate not hearing,” he muttered. “I always wondered what it would be like. It’s like watching a new movie with the sound and subtitles off. I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on inside your head or hers or anyone else’s.”

  That was probably just as well. She’d called Aunt Grace while Book was gone and learned they’d shared several past lives together. How ironic, to be surrounded by women who called themselves Shield Maidens and she had been one. Book had been her Jarl, her lover, and the man she’d died trying to protect. Like Aunt Grace, Uncle Nico, and Uncle J.T., they’d been brought together again for a higher purpose.

  Your mission, should you choose to accept it . . .

  Still processing what she’d been told, she was fighting emotions that didn’t belong and having downright dangerous thoughts. To distract herself, she focused on Book. Placing her hand over his, she rubbed the back of it in soothing strokes and comforting circles. “How did you sleep last night?” she asked. “I assume Mitch and the others left you alone until you went to church.”

  Canting his head, he crooked a grin and gave her a look that spoke volumes. “Good,” he murmured, “after you wore me out. I dealt with the wraiths this afternoon. The guardian spirit I put in place over their grave should serve to keep them there.

  She hoped like hell so. The hostile living were bad enough. Bloody Mary looked ready to tear her apart. Given a chance, the wraiths would be cheering her on, pissed that they’d failed to kidnap her.

  Book narrowed his eyes and swept the scene with a telling glance. “I think some of the Rangers are here. Where they were assigned to protect you and bring you home, they may be attached to you or their SUVs. We parked them along the back fence and brought the keys inside.”

  At least they were friendly ghosts. The idea was both comforting and creepy. It unsettled her to think Mitch could enter the clubhouse . . . Book’s room . . . their bed . . .

  “They can’t come inside the lodge, can they?”

  “No,” he said firmly. “We already had protection in place. I boosted it after church and before the couriers came, knowing we might need it. Skye, the Shield Maidens’ shaman, did the same with their lodge in case any wraiths managed to slip through and tried to follow them home.”

  “So they know about this morning?”

  “Yes, they know. We had to tell them regardless of where you choose to stay because they’re associated with our club. Gray Ghost might retaliate. Against us. Against them. Against you. As long as he’s out there and you’re here, the danger of another kidnapping attempt exists. Spider has extra eyes out now. We’ve added sentries, and we’re increasing patrols on bike and horseback. You won’t be going anywhere unless we know it’s perfectly safe and then we’ll have an armed escort. Until Texas comes for you, I’m afraid you’re stuck at the lodge with me.”

  It’s what she was counting on.

  She’d had
time to think while he was gone. Time to talk to the one person she could always go to for guidance.

  Aunt Grace was never wrong.

  She didn’t tell Book, but Grace hadn’t seen her returning to Texas any time soon. The idea of being confined to an underground headquarters should have made her feel trapped, but she was safe, well-fed, and deliciously sore thanks to the Lost Creek MC Vice President. The portents of things to come, she hoped.

  “If the Gray Ghost knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay in Oklahoma and far away from here.”

  Grace had warned her to beware. The Gray Ghost and his band of wraiths were a pack of mounted bandits operating in northern Oklahoma. They targeted farms, banks, and travelers, sweeping down on bikes or horseback and committing mayhem before loading up and disappearing again. Rumor had it the governor of the Sooner State was either in cahoots or too scared to go after them. As close as they raided to the southern Kansas border, someone in The Great State could be aiding and abetting.

  They’d never been known to raid into Kansas, let alone go this far north before. The fact they had successfully reached her was disturbing. But the Gray Ghost hadn’t risked coming himself. A wise choice, considering how recognizable he was. The wanted posters described him as in his mid-thirties, tall, and fit. The accompanying photograph showed a man in his prime with a ruggedly handsome face, an athletic build, and striking gray eyes. Legend said his hair had turned white overnight after finding his family slaughtered.

  “I hope the hell so,” she breathed, covering her solar plexus with her free hand and wondering what had her gut instinct on alert. Was it Scary Mary, the wraiths who’d died, or the outlaw leader who had plotted to kidnap her and had killed Mitch?

  She wished she knew.

  Book slipped an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss on her crown. “Hungry?” he asked, noticing where her hand was pressed.

  “I was,” she confessed, opting for honesty with a Dominant who had no problem doling out discipline. “I’m . . . uneasy. More apprehensive than nervous, if that makes sense. It feels like a fist twisting my guts. Hey, what are you doing?”